


Just Another Town

by carolinecrane



Series: down is where we came from [49]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-20
Updated: 2011-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-15 19:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/164229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes it's kind of cool to be able to say "I'm with the band".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Town

**Author's Note:**

> Credit for the band's name and the t-shirts goes to Jen. T-shirt designs can be seen [here](http://carolinecrane.livejournal.com/913356.html), if you are so inclined.

The jar’s one of those big glass deals with a wide mouth, the kind that comes filled with giant pickles or enough mayonnaise to keep a deli in business for a year. There’s no sign of the original contents, no peeling label with faded writing telling him what used to be in there. Instead there’s a piece of notebook paper taped to one side, the words “The Ohio Project” written on it in blue permanent marker.

Puck doesn’t notice it right away, mostly because Kurt decided to come to his first show since they’ve been back in L.A., so Puck’s too busy enjoying their engagement to pay attention to much else. And it turns out that what Kurt meant by ‘enjoying their engagement’ is hanging out together as often as they can, plus a hell of a lot of fantastic sex, so Puck’s down with enjoying it for as long as Kurt wants.

Well. Until next February, anyway, because they already told Puck’s mom and Carole a definite date, and now that the wheels are in motion Puck’s pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to stop them if they wanted to.

Not that he wants to.

Still, he’s planning to enjoy the hell out of it while he can, especially if it means Kurt’s not going to complain about hanging out in the bar listening to his band every Friday. So he doesn’t notice the jar or the table it’s sitting on, the one near the stage with a little sign advertising t-shirts for twenty bucks apiece.

Maybe he should have expected something like this. The band figured out he was engaged during Puck’s first rehearsal back, after all; Starr noticed first, which didn’t surprise him, because chicks have some kind of radar for that sort of thing. Anyway she was the one who grabbed his hand – the one with the ring, of course – and said, “Holy shit, did you get fucking _married_?”

Then he had to waste a whole bunch of time telling them what went down. Not that he really minded talking about Kurt, but it had been awhile since he played for real, and he’d sort of been looking forward to rehearsal. Still, there was only so much of that kind of talk the guys would put up with, and once he got to the part about locking themselves in a hotel room for two days, Scott and Mitch made him shut up.

After rehearsal they all congratulated him again, slapped him on the back and promised to buy him a celebratory beer at their next show. Puck figures that’s the end of it, until he walks into the bar where they play every Friday, his guitar case in one hand and Kurt’s hand in the other, and finds Mitch’s girlfriend sitting behind a table in front of the stage.

He doesn’t notice the table until he’s almost to the stairs, and even then he would have missed it if it wasn’t for Kurt, because they’re running late and he’s busy thinking about getting set up, not what their lead singer’s girlfriend is doing. So it’s really Kurt who notices and tugs on his hand, and when Puck doesn’t stop right away he says, “Noah, what’s this about?”

Which is when Puck stops and looks, takes in the big-ass jar and the t-shirts – and since when do they have band t-shirts, anyway? – and looks over at Kurt.

“I have no fucking clue, babe,” he says, but it’s not exactly the truth, because he thinks he might be able to guess.

“Pretty cool, huh?”

Puck glances over to find Starr standing on his other side, grinning and wearing one of the t-shirts they’re apparently selling now. Hers is missing its sleeves, which isn’t a surprise, but the weird picture of the soldiers is stretched across her rack, and the band’s name is printed on the bottom in bold white letters.

“You didn’t actually pay money for that thing, did you?” Puck asks, raising an eyebrow in the direction of her chest.

“It’s for a good cause,” she says, grinning at him for a second before she leans around him to look at Kurt. “I wanted to call it ‘Operation Get Noah’s Creepy Stalker Ass Married Before Kurt Comes to His Senses’, but it wouldn’t fit on the jar.”

Kurt laughs at that, and Puck rolls his eyes and lets go of his hand. “I don’t get it.”

“It’s a fundraiser, moron,” Starr says. “How are we supposed to play your wedding if we don’t raise the money to get there?”

Puck’s not aware that he’s standing there staring at her with his mouth open until Kurt sort of pushes him out of the way so he can see Starr. “You want to play at our wedding?”

She shrugs, and just for a second she looks a little unsure, like maybe it didn’t dawn her until this moment that this might not be the best idea ever. Then Puck remembers that she doesn’t really know Kurt, at least not beyond saying hi and a couple drinks after a show when Kurt happens to show up. So she has no idea that the look on Kurt’s face doesn’t mean he hates the idea so much as he’s shocked they’d go to the trouble.

At least Puck’s pretty sure that’s what it means.

“Give us a second,” Puck says, then he grabs Kurt’s hand again and pulls him away from the table and the band, sets his guitar down and looks at Kurt. “Are you cool with this? Because if you’re not I can just tell them we’ve already got it covered.”

“What, covered by Finn?” Kurt smirks, and Puck swallows against a rush of something like relief and grins back at him. “Of course I don’t mind if your band plays at the reception, Noah. I know how important they are to you, and besides, at least that way we know what we’re getting. But do you really think they’ll be able to raise the money to get there just by selling t-shirts in this place?”

Puck shrugs and glances around the bar. It’s about as full as it usually is on Friday night, which isn’t saying a lot, granted, but the regular crowd is pretty loyal, and he figures that counts for something. “Worth a shot, right?”

“Absolutely.”

Kurt smiles again and leans in for a kiss, and that’s new, because he’s usually not that big on public displays unless they’re somewhere he’s really comfortable, but Puck knows better than to pass up the opportunity. He slides his arm around Kurt’s waist to pull him close, grinning against Kurt’s mouth when he parts his lips on a sigh. They’re already skirting ‘get a room’ territory when the sound of feedback fills the room, then Mitch’s voice comes over the microphone.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have an announcement, if our guitarist can climb off his fiance long enough to get his ass up here and earn his keep.”

Puck rolls his eyes and pulls back to watch Kurt blush, then he brushes one last kiss against Kurt’s lips before he lets go and heads for the stage amid a round of applause and a bunch of catcalls. He lifts his middle finger in the direction of the crowd before he opens his guitar case and takes out the Fender, busying himself with plugging in and getting set up while Mitch starts talking again.

“Like I was saying, Noah’s getting himself hitched.” More applause, and Puck grins and scans the crowd until he spots Kurt sitting at a table up front, still blushing while he places his order for one of those embarrassing chick drinks he likes so much. When he hears Mitch mention the wedding he glances over at the stage, catching Puck’s eye and turning an even deeper shade of red.

“And he can’t very well get hitched without the world’s greatest band there to rock the reception, right?” Mitch says, pausing to listen to the cheers from the crowd before he continues. “Only problem is the wedding’s in fucking Ohio.”

Mitch holds up his hand to cut off the chorus of boos, then he shakes his head and glances over his shoulder at Puck. “Hey, he can’t help where he’s from. At least he had the sense to get the hell out, right?”

Puck rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t bother trying to defend Ohio. He doesn’t bother pointing out that nobody else in the band is from L.A. either, or that he wouldn’t have to go home to get married if those fuckers up in Sacramento would stop voting against his right to marry Kurt every chance they get. Instead he looks at Kurt again, catching his eye and watching him blush and Mitch can say whatever the hell he wants about Ohio, but Puck knows what it has to offer.

“So we’re taking up a collection,” Mitch says, shouting over the crowd until they settle down again. “We need your help to get Every Citizen a Soldier to Ohio for Kurt and Noah’s wedding. Buy a t-shirt, or just donate what you can. And don’t be cheap, you bastards, we’ve seen how much you spend on booze every Friday.”

The regulars burst into a fresh round of applause and some more laughter, and Puck figures that’s the end of it. He turns on his amp and strums a couple chords on his guitar, but when Mitch holds up his hand for quiet Puck presses his hand against the guitar strings to still them.

“We’ve been working on a new song for the occasion,” Mitch says, and that’s news to Puck, considering he just broke the news to them a few days ago. As soon as Mitch starts playing Puck recognizes the song, though, and he rolls his eyes and grins and jumps in on the first verse.

When Mitch gets to the chorus Starr and Scott jump in too, and all four of them belt out “marry me, sweet babe, won’t you marry me” to a smiling, red-faced Kurt. It’s cheesier than Puck’s third proposal, even, and by the time they get to the end of the song he’s laughing too hard to keep up the backing vocals. Before it’s even done he pulls his guitar off and hops off the stage, crossing the bar to stop in front of Kurt’s table and plant a kiss on him.

The whole bar’s cheering by the time he lets Kurt go and hops back up on stage, and that’s pretty damn cheesy too, but by the time their last set’s done the jar’s half full, so he figures it’s worth it.

Once their instruments are packed up and they’ve cleared the stage off Puck drops into the chair next to Kurt’s, grinning at Starr and the guys when they sit down and pass out a round of beers. Mitch’s girlfriend comes over a couple minutes later to set the jar down in the center of the table, and Puck slides an arm around Kurt’s shoulders and watches while she counts their take for the night.

They make over a hundred bucks on t-shirts alone, and it’s not a lot, granted, but it’s a start. Besides, they’ve got a year to raise the rest of the cash, and Puck figures if anybody can pull it off, it’s Mitch.

“I’m not sure how you’re going to top jumping off the stage and kissing him,” Mitch’s girl says, but she’s grinning at the two of them like she hasn’t had this much fun...well, ever. “That really opened the wallets.”

“I know how we can top it,” Puck says, and when Kurt raises an eyebrow at him Puck just grins. “Next time we get Kurt on stage for a duet.”

“Noah, I haven’t sung in public in years,” Kurt says, but his cheeks are glowing, and that’s not one of his embarrassed blushes.

“Whatever, babe, you’re a natural and you know it,” Puck answers, leaning in to brush a kiss across Kurt’s cheek before he grins at the band again. “Besides, it’s for a good cause.”

**Author's Note:**

> The song mentioned in the fic is [Marry Me](http://www.box.net/shared/xjh8ryb9hd) by the Drive-By Truckers, if you'd like to hear it.


End file.
